Page 4

"Temporary insanity." I yank my hand away.
That dimple deepens as he grins. "Monthly temporary insanity. Like clockwork."
I turn away, focusing on straightening the items on my small dresser that got knocked askew during our... encounter. "Don't you have somewhere important to be? Some noble's correspondence to deliver? Some other woman to torment?"
His reflection appears in my small mirror as he moves behind me, still magnificently nude. Those golden eyes meet mine in the glass. "There's only one woman I enjoy tormenting."
"Lucky me," I mutter, but something twists in my chest at his words. Not jealousy. Definitely not jealousy.
His hands settle on my hips, thumbs tracing small circles that almost have me caving again. "Admit it, Ronnie. You wait for me. You watch for me."
I swallow hard. "I tolerate you."
"You want me." His lips brush the sensitive spot just below my ear. "Almost as much as I want you."
I close my eyes, hating my body's instant response to him. Hating myself for this weakness. Twelve months of this dance, and I still haven't found the strength to turn him away when he appears at my door with that hungry look in his eyes.
"Get dressed," I whisper, the command lacking all force. "Please."
His sigh stirs my hair, but he steps back. "As you wish, fierce one."
I watch Araton dress with practiced efficiency, his movements fluid and graceful even in such a mundane task. His wings twitch and shift as he pulls his shirt over his head, the fabric specially designed with slits to accommodate them. I've always wondered how the xaphan manage clothing around those massive appendages, but I'd rather die than ask him and reveal my curiosity.
"You're staring," he says without looking up, fastening the toggles at his collar.
"I'm waiting for you to leave." I fold my arms across my chest, leaning against the doorframe.
He secures the leather bracers on his forearms—courier's equipment, with small pockets for emergency messages—and finally looks up at me with that infuriating smile. "One of these days, you'll admit you enjoy my company."
"One of these days, zarryn will fly."
"Always so prickly." He crosses the room in three long strides, standing close enough that I can smell the lingering scent of sex on his skin mingled with something uniquely him—like summer storms and burnt sugar. "It's one of your more endearing qualities."
I tilt my chin up defiantly. "Get out, Araton."
Instead of moving away, he cups my face in one hand, his thumb brushing my cheekbone with unexpected tenderness.The gesture catches me off guard, making my breath hitch traitorously in my throat.
"Until next time, fierce one." His voice dips lower, intimate in a way that feels more invasive than when he was inside me. His lips brush mine in a feather-light kiss that's nothing like the devouring hunger from earlier.
I stand frozen, unwilling to reciprocate but unable to pull away. When he steps back, his golden eyes hold something I refuse to interpret.
"Next time," I repeat flatly, opening the door in pointed dismissal. "Safe travels or whatever."
Araton pauses in the doorway, wings folding tight against his back to fit through. The moonlight catches the silver flecks in his feathers, making them glimmer like scattered stars.
"I'll be passing back through in three weeks. Official business in New Solas." He says it casually, as though he's not giving me a timeline to anticipate his return. As though we both don't know exactly what will happen when he reappears at my door.
"I won't hold my breath."
His right cheek dimples. "Liar."
Then he's gone, wings extending as he steps into the night. He doesn't immediately take flight—xaphan rarely do in human villages, a courtesy or perhaps an acknowledgment of how it makes us uncomfortable—but I know he'll be airborne the moment he clears the last houses.
I close the door harder than necessary and press my forehead against the rough wood. The silence in my small home feels abruptly oppressive.
"Damn him," I whisper to nobody.
My bedroom still smells like him. Like us. The sheets are a tangled mess, and I know I should strip them now, wash away the evidence of my weakness. Instead, I sink onto the edge of thebed and run my fingers over the indentation his head left on my pillow.